The Pros and Cons of Asking Iida Tenya Out on a Date
by doopdoop2
Summary: "She was just as physically there as any other girl, with skin and hair, a smile, curves; but those were things other girls didn't have to remind people they had. She was always at a disadvantage." [Hagakure gets a crush, makes a list, second-guesses herself, screws things up, and makes it better.]
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** I get that Hagakure is so far a bit of a joke character, but I think that's a little unfair to her. How do you create a character and say "She's a totally normal teenage girl, except she's invisible"? Being invisible is not a little thing, it's the sort of thing that would affect your entire mindset and way of being.

This odd pairing arose after I wrote _Radio Silence_ , which had a scene where they interact and I thought, hmm, what a cute couple, in an "opposites attract" kind of way.

* * *

Hagakure Tooru was making a list.

She didn't normally consider herself an analytical person. Nor was she prone to thinking deeply about her actions; she was more the type to jump into the thick of things, throw caution to the winds, and take the consequences as they came.

But this – this was more important than most things, and she didn't want to screw it up.

Her list, written in black ink just under some math notes, bore the headers _Pros_ and _Cons_ , with _1, 2,_ and _3_ on separate lines under each. That was all, so far. The bell had rung before she'd even had time to begin.

Now, back at her dorm room, she had all the time in the world and plenty of studying to put off. She clicked her pen and leaned forward to begin.

The list was unlabeled on the off chance that it might fall into the wrong hands, but the title it bore in Hagakure's head was: _The Pros and Cons of Asking Iida Tenya Out on a Date._

On the first line under Pros, she wrote:

 _1\. Even if he rejects me, I know he won't laugh at me._

Alright, maybe that was a little pessimistic, but what was it people said? "Hope for the best, plan for the worst"? It was good that she'd fallen for someone who took things seriously, and would never use her moment of vulnerability against her. That was a big plus.

After a moment, she turned to the Cons side and wrote:

 _1\. He's very serious._

Hagakure felt immediately guilty and considered crossing it out, but in the end she left it, even though it didn't really fit the theme of the list. The truth was, she _wasn't_ serious, and it was entirely possible one of them would end up driving the other up the wall. (Although she knew from experience that serious people were often very fun to tease, so this Con wasn't the worst.)

Still under Cons, she wrote:

 _2\. He probably doesn't even think of me like that. I bet I'll get rejected and that sucks._

She'd never asked someone out on a date before, but who hadn't been rejected from _something_? One didn't need romantic experience to know rejection stung. She could even imagine it now: his look of surprise softening and, after a second or two, turning to one of pity. The gentleness in his tone as he gave her an apology…Hagakure shook her head, clearing the mental image. Best not to get _that_ far ahead of herself.

She switched back to the Pros column and wrote:

 _2\. There's a chance he won't reject me, and then I'll be dating Iida!_

 _Whoops_ , she thought: the whole idea of the unlabeled list was to _not_ name names. She furiously scribbled out "Iida" and replaced it with "him".

Although she saw it as a slimmer chance, she supposed it was possible: he might actually accept her offer, and they'd go on a date together, and that would be fun, because, let's face it, there was a reason she wasn't mentally titling this list _The Pros and Cons of Iida Tenya_. She'd already made that list – not consciously, but she _must_ have, before her stupid brain decided to go and get a crush on him in the first place. The pros _obviously_ outweighed the cons. She could list off half a dozen or more without pausing: he was smart, helpful, handsome… (She could _really_ get a list going if she wanted to label specific parts of him she found physically attractive.) Even his tendency to get embarrassed easily was endearing.

And, of course, he'd never joked about her being invisible, or acted weird about it, or even, really, seemed to care or mind.

She turned to Cons and wrote:

 _3\. I'm invisible_

After a moment of staring at what she'd written, her handwriting seeming suddenly too cute and bubbly for the amount of frustration behind the words, she tore the page out of her notebook, crumpled it into a ball and threw it onto her floor.

* * *

It had never escaped Hagakure's notice how visually focused boys were. Girls were too, of course, but not nearly to the same extent. She'd been forcibly assigned to the role of observer often enough to notice: boys stared at girls, they stared at pictures of women, they thought about women's appearances and bodies _all the time_. It was inescapable.

She could circumvent that a little by wearing skintight clothing, reminding everyone that yes, she really did have a body, even if you couldn't see it normally. But she knew that even then, there was something missing. She was just as physically _there_ as any other girl, with skin and hair, a smile, curves; but those were things other girls didn't have to remind people they had. She was always at a disadvantage.

She didn't behave differently from other girls. She knew she was friendly, outgoing, energetic – maybe at times too much so – yet she always felt a little forgotten, a little pushed to the side. She had to be louder just to be noticed. No one could read the subtleties of her facial expressions; she had to let everyone know exactly how she was feeling, or they'd never be aware.

It was a good thing she wasn't shy, or she'd probably take too much advantage of her Quirk, become a wallflower and let the world pass her by. As it was, she felt as if she was making a constant choice, reminding the world, over and over again, that she was still there.

* * *

She didn't think about the note until that evening, when she was working on homework with Ashido and Uraraka. She invited them over and had completely forgotten the note, crumpled on the floor of her otherwise-pristine dorm, until Ashido nearly sat on it. "What's this?" she said, flattening it out so she could read it.

"Just math notes," Hagakure said, reaching to take it, but Ashido sensed the note of desperation in her voice and snatched it away just in time.

"No it's not!" she said gleefully. Then, a second later: "Well, it sort of is. But it's also…"

Uraraka peered curiously over her shoulder. Hagakure felt her face turn hot as she watched them read it.

"Who is this about?" Uraraka asked, eyes wide.

"Let's see," Ashido said. "How many guys can be described as 'serious'?" She paused, finger on her chin, thinking. "Actually quite a few. Todoroki, Tokoyami, Iida, Shoji…"

"Look, she wrote a name and crossed it out," Uraraka said, leaning forward. "Something short."

"You two –!" Hagakure groaned. "It's not fair for you both to team up on me like this! Can't you give me some privacy?"

"If you'd wanted privacy, why would you write this all down and leave it where anyone can find it?" Ashido asked. "Anyway, if you tell us, we can help you."

"I'm probably not going to ask him, anyways. It's a bad idea."

"I can't tell you if I don't know who you're talking about." Ashido handed the note back to Hagakure, as if that would do any good _now._ "But if you tell me, I can give you advice."

Hagakure stared at her, silent, her face contorted in an angry frown. Wasn't it funny, she thought distantly, how she made the same facial expressions as everyone else? It was like her mind never quite caught up to the fact that she was invisible, similar to the way people still gestured with their hands when they were on the phone.

"Who do you think it is, Uraraka?"

"Okay, okay, stop," Hagakure said, burying her face in her hands. "I'll tell you."

They waited, expectant. There was no going back now.

"It's Iida."

"Aww, cute!" Uraraka said, and at the same moment Ashido gave a sharp laugh of surprise. " _What_?" she said, in response to Uraraka's glare. "It's unexpected!"

"He's a good guy," Uraraka said, turning to face Hagakure again. She didn't quite meet her eyes, but she did her best to look in the right direction, her smiling gaze focused somewhere in the vicinity of Hagakure's forehead. "I say you should go for it!"

"Let me take another look at that list," Ashido said, snatching it back. "Hmm, yes, you're right, he won't hold it against you – what do you mean here? Number 3 – 'I'm invisible'?"

"I mean, _look_ at me," Hagakure said, gesturing to herself, although they would only see her sleeves moving. "Come on, you know what I mean."

"How does that stop you?" Ashido asked.

"It doesn't _stop_ me, but, like, how can anyone think I'm cute, or like me back?"

"You _are_ cute!" Uraraka said, her voice suddenly passionate.

Ashido nodded. "You are. It's your personality! That's what makes you so cute. If he has any sense, he'll like you back. He might not like you _yet_ , but once he knows of your interest in you, I'm sure something will develop. That's how it always seems to happen, you know? Sometimes guys just need a hint like that."

"Uh-huh," Hagakure said, not completely convinced.

"So are you going to do it?" Ashido asked, leaning forward, grin on her face.

They heard a click, and turned. Uraraka had gotten out a pen, and was writing something else on the list. After a moment she held it out for them to see. "You didn't finish the Pros side, so I helped out."

 _3\. I have nothing to lose, and everything to gain!_

"Yes!" Ashido said. "That's the idea. Hagakure, that's the sort of attitude you should take!"

"Okay, okay," she said, grabbing the note and shoving it into her pocket. "Let's start on the homework, you guys. I don't want to be up all night."

* * *

Restless, unable to sleep, she decided that night that she would ask Iida out after all. It was less to do with him, and more to shut Ashido and Uraraka up. (At this point, she knew nothing else would.) Then, if and when she was rejected, she could use it as evidence they'd been wrong.

She vacillated between saying it aloud and writing a letter, and decided in the end on the former. Iida was a traditionalist, and he would appreciate a show of sincerity, she thought. Plus, she knew from experience, it was harder to turn someone down to their face, and that might work in her favor. She was willing to stoop that low, pathetic as she felt about it.

So, lying half awake, she wrote some lines in her head and made a plan. She'd ask him to stay after their last class, saying she had a question for him. Then, in the hallway, she'd tell him how she felt and ask him on a date. If it went wrong, she could go back to her dorm and not have to worry about school for the rest of the week, as it would be a Friday. If it went well – she'd play it by ear. She didn't want to get ahead of herself.

The actual plan went badly awry, though. As class was starting, Hagakure whispered to Iida that she'd like to talk to him alone afterwards, and he nodded. But he didn't seem to quite grasp the "alone" part; not long after the bell rang, when half the class was still in the room, Iida called to her, "What was it you wished to speak to me about, Hagakure?"

His voice carried. She heard giggles from somewhere behind her. _Damn it, damn it, damn it._

"Can we step outside?" she asked.

Iida nodded, confused but obedient, and they went into the hallway together. She was glad, for once, that she was invisible; she was sure she'd be beet-red otherwise.

Once they were alone, she took a deep breath. "Iida…" she began.

"Is something wrong, Hagakure?" he asked her. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

This was why she liked him, but damn it, it made it harder to get the words out. She shook her head, then realized he wouldn't see it and instead said, "No." She took another deep breath, her clammy hands twisting around each other, and said, almost too fast to be comprehensible: "I really like you – will you go out with me?"

She was able to see the progression of emotions on his face. First, puzzlement: it took a moment for him to actually decipher what she was saying. Then pleased surprise, a smile – and then, suddenly, it disappeared, and he looked very, very serious, almost angry. He did not need to answer with words for Hagakure to know that that didn't bode well.

"You can take some time to think about it," she said, just as he opened his mouth to speak. "Please."

He shut his mouth with a snap and nodded, and Hagakure turned and fled, half walking, half running all the way from the classroom to her dorm room. She threw herself onto the bed, face buried in her pillow, and heaved a deep sigh.

That wasn't how her speech was supposed to go. She'd had a decent sized paragraph planned out, and the heat of the moment the words had fled, leaving her mind blank. If nothing else, she thought tearily, this would be a life lesson for the future: skip the heartfelt speech, and just write a damn letter after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Iida watched Hagakure scurry away until she turned a corner and went out of sight.

He hadn't known what to think, at first, but putting the pieces together gave him only one conclusion. Her nervousness and embarrassment, the laughs of the others in the classroom… she must have asked him out on a dare.

Iida tried to think the best of others, and he certainly hadn't thought Hagakure capable of such rudeness, but it was possible she hadn't taken Iida's feelings into account. He would have to tell her how hurtful it was to get someone's hopes up in that manner, so she didn't repeat it with someone else in the future. Hopefully she'd spread what he said to the other girls he'd heard laughing, too. He wondered how many people were in on it, all in all.

He was quite thoroughly lost in his own world when, out of the blue, he heard a voice call his name. Uraraka stood next to the door to his dorm room, obviously waiting for him, with a frown on her face and her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Uraraka," Iida said, nodding. "Good afternoon." He paused, taking in her expression. "Have I done something to upset you?"

"I called your name three times before you heard me."

"Oh, my apologies!" Iida forced a smile. "I was preoccupied with… other things."

"What did you say to – what did Hagakure have to say after class?"

"Oh." He sighed. "Will you come in for a moment?"

They took off their backpacks and sat on the floor. Uraraka looked at him, patient and expectant, and he decided to tell her about what had happened. She tended to offer solid advice on interpersonal relations, and Iida found himself wanting to know what she'd say.

"Hagakure pulled me aside after class for the purpose of asking me on a date, _supposedly_ ," Iida said. "Due to the laughter I heard beforehand, as well as her body language, I realized it was most likely done as a dare."

"Oh, _no_ ," Uraraka said, voice low, and swallowed audibly.

"Quite terrible, isn't it?" Iida said, nodding. He felt the fire of righteous indignation fill him, giving him energy. It was better than getting sad about it, at least. "I can't believe that she –"

"What did you say?"

Iida coughed, surprised at her interruption, and adjusted his glasses. "I said nothing. There was no need. She left before I had a chance to respond. I find it likely she began to feel some regret at her actions."

"Oh, no no no," Uraraka said, and that thoroughly puzzled him: _shouldn't_ Hagakure be feeling regret? Was it a bad thing? After a moment she went on: "Iida, it wasn't a prank or a dare or whatever you think it was. _Why_ do you think that, anyways?"

"Firstly…" He held one finger. "When she asked to speak to me alone, I heard laughter from at least two other people elsewhere in the classroom. At the time I didn't connect it, but I believe it was the reaction of her co-conspirators.

"Second…" It was hard to continue, with Uraraka looking as morose as she did, but he ploughed ahead anyways. "Her exact words were 'I really like you. Will you go out with me?' but she said them in such an insincere, rushed manner…"

He stopped, because Uraraka was shaking her head again. "Iida," she said, "it _was_ sincere, and the laughter was me. Me and Ashido."

Iida froze, blinked once. Cleared his throat. "Please explain."

"Yesterday we found this pros and cons list Hagakure had made. It was obviously about asking a person out, but she didn't say any name, just 'him'. So Ashido and I pestered her until she revealed that it was about you."

Iida felt suddenly very cold.

"And we kept trying to get her to actually do it. I didn't think she would, so when I heard you say that thing yesterday after class, I knew it was actually happening. Th-that's why Ashido and I laughed. It was just… surprise, I guess." She pressed a hand to her forehead. "I feel like I screwed everything up!"

Iida wasn't sure how Uraraka could possible feel that way when it was obvious _he_ was the one who'd made a mess of everything. "Please don't feel bad," he said quietly. "I was the one who misinterpreted the situation. I've got to go," he added, getting to his feet. "I need to apologize to Hagakure."

"What are you going to say to her original question, though?"

Iida stopped, already halfway to the door. In truth, he hadn't given it any thought whatsoever. The most important thing to him at that moment was apologizing for the misunderstanding and making sure Hagakure knew Iida held no ill feelings for her; in his haste, he'd forgotten what the entire thing had been about to begin with.

"I'll give it more thought after I apologize," he said at last. In truth, he had no idea what he would say. "She may have rescinded her offer, anyway."

"Iida…"

He turned to face Uraraka, his hand on the doorknob. If she had planned to say anything else, she had decided not to; instead, she gave him a smile and a thumbs-up, grabbing her things to leave at the same time as he did.

"Text me," she said. "Tell me how it goes. And good luck."

"Thank you," Iida said, and they went their separate ways.

* * *

He knocked twice on Hagakure's door, startling himself with how loud the sound seemed in the quiet hallway. After a moment he heard a barely-audible voice call out "Come in," so without pausing to overthink things he opened the door and entered.

Iida could tell from the positioning of Hagakure's clothing that she was lying on her stomach on the bed, and that her voice had been muffled by the pillow. For a second Iida could actually see a face-shaped indentation in it; it was the nearest he'd actually come to seeing what Hagakure looked like. The impression disappeared as she lifted her head. Iida could actually see the moment Hagakure realized it was _him_ there, not whomever she'd obviously been expecting instead: she froze, the way a rabbit does when startled.

"Hagakure," he said, speaking quickly in an attempt to get his message out before she could send him away, "please accept my apology for the way I reacted to your confession in the hallway. I completely misinterpreted –"

"No, no," she said, her voice cutting through his. She'd turned to sit on the bed, facing him, her hands (judging from the position of her sleeves) resting in her lap. "You don't have to say it. It's fine."

"Please let me finish," he said. "It's very important!"

She waited, silent. Iida wished she was visible: he'd never realized how much harder conversing was when he couldn't see a person's facial expressions. "I completely misinterpreted what you said earlier. I took your confession to be in bad faith."

"What do you mean?"

"I made the false assumption…" He took a breath and stared at the floor. This was _hard_. He knew suddenly why she'd fumbled her words and run away afterwards. "I thought it was a joke. A dare."

"Oh," she said, sniffing. Or sniffling? Was she crying? Iida looked up at her again, wishing she'd give something away. He was lost at sea. Then, voice heavy with hurt, she said, "Really? You thought _I_ would…"

"It's nothing against you, Hagakure," he said, hoping he sounded half as sorry as he felt. "I just didn't think it likely, or possible, that you'd actually – that _anyone_ would actually –"

"Ohh," she said, as if something had clicked. "Iida. Has that happened before?"

"To what are you referr –"

"Has someone asked you out as a joke?"

He paused, feeling stripped bare where he stood. Invisible as Hagakure was, she could be looking anywhere at any time – Iida felt as if she was looking everywhere all at once, as if no part of him was safe from scrutiny. She might have been staring at the floor for all he knew, but he felt like a bug pinned to a corkboard, trapped, paralyzed. He nodded.

Iida expected more questions about that, and was prepared to be honest with her; but she only said, "I guess it makes sense then. What changed your mind?"

"Uraraka," he said. "She told me about your list –"

Hagakure groaned, and Iida froze in fear – was she mad at him? At Uraraka? Had he gotten his friend in trouble? – but then she began to laugh. "That stupid list," she said. "It started all of this. I wish they'd never found it. I wish I'd never made it!" She wiped her face and yes, at some point she had definitely been crying, although Iida was confused, because she'd definitely just been laughing too.

"She didn't tell me what was _on_ the list," he said quickly, unsure if that made a difference. "Just that it existed."

"That's good, anyway."

"Hagakure," Iida said, "will you accept my apology? I shouldn't have made those assumptions about you, and I'm sorry."

"Oh," she said, surprise in her voice, "yeah, seriously, it's okay. I understand."

But he wasn't sure she did. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" he said, trying a different tack. He still felt guilty. Even without her facial expressions as a guide, he could tell she was feeling bad yet: her posture was slumped, and she still sniffled now and then.

"Hmmmm," she said, and there was a long pause. "You know, there's a movie I want to see, but none of my friends really want to go, and I _hate_ going to movies alone. It would be super sweet of you if –"

"Of course!" Iida said, a bit louder than he'd meant it to come out. "I would love to accompany you!" He didn't care about the genre or the price: she'd graciously given him a chance, and he was eager to seize it. "What day and time works best for you?"

"Tomorrow evening?"

"Excellent," Iida said, mentally rearranging his calendar. His only plans for Saturday evening were studying, tidying his room, and perhaps a trip to the gym: all things that could be shifted to other dates without conflict.

"I'll meet you at your room at, let's say… seven? Does that work?"

"That works just fine!" He had the sudden urge to shake her hand, but he was pretty sure that wasn't what he was supposed to do in this situation. "Thank you very much!"

"No problem. See you then."

That was a goodbye if he'd ever heard one, so he gave her a polite nod and left. On his way back to his own room, it occurred to Iida that she had never re-asked the initial question about the date – she must have forgotten.

He would have to remind her when they went to the movie tomorrow.


End file.
